Happy Fourth of July!

I love this country. America has been very good and generous to me and mine--"mine" being a term that stretches across the generations. Which is why I worry like hell about her, of course.

Just to remind you of how it got started--the Declaration of Independence.

Oh, and a brief amusing anecdote: I studied at the University of Aberdeen in 1989. One of my classes was about the history of the European Enlightenment, and the American Revolution came up, natch. Aberdeen had seminar classes (cattle call learning familiar to any American undergrad in a 100 level course), but also had "tutorials," which were breakout sessions of ten students or so in groups. I was "the American" in my group in this particular course. The Professor (an Englishman) asked me to set forth the gist of the American Declaration of Independence. Don't worry, dear reader--to use a term from earlier this evening, I held up the side. I explained that the document, in addition to the immortal preamble, "set forth the crimes of King George III." Apparently, the English professor found this to be a bit too Yankocentric an interpretation, and replied thusly:

"Ah, yes, the alleged crimes of George III."

A few of the native Scots rolled their eyes in sympathy for me. Bloody sassenach was the undertone.

Anyway, here is the magnificent founding document of my nation:

When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.
Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed.

But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.

Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain [George III] is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.

He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.

He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained, and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.

He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.

He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.

He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.

He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected; whereby the Legislative powers, incapable of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State remaining in the meantime exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.

He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.

He has obstructed the Administration of Justice, by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary powers.

He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone, for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.

He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harass our people, and eat out their substance.

He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies, without the consent of our legislatures.

He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil power.

He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:

For protecting them by a mock Trial from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:
For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:
For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent:
For depriving us in many cases of the benefits of Trial by Jury:
For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences:
For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies:
For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments:
For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.
He has abdicated Government here by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us.

He has plundered our seas, ravaged our Coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.

He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to complete the works of death, desolation and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of cruelty and perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.

He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.

He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages, whose known rule of warfare is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.

In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms. Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince, whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our British brethren.

We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us.
We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here.
We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence.
They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.

We, therefore, the Representatives of the United States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by the authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare.

That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown,

and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain is and ought to be totally dissolved;

and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce,

and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do.

And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.

GIRM Warfare in Saginaw.

We went up to the summer palace at 26 Pines for the weekend. We were able to see my parents, sister-in-law and her kids (Hi Brennen and Molly!). Dad launched off his usual modest fireworks display (think "kilotons" and you are getting into the ballpark), grilled the better part of a rendered heifer and the childroon had a ball with my Mom (dubbed "Neema" by her adoring grandchildren). I had fun, too, but 180 miles one way on Michigan expressways during a holiday weekend has left me on the decerebrated side.

As is the case with all trips to the northern highlands, the Papist Prices are faced with a Sunday conundrum: where to worship? The nearest parish, St. Athanasius in Harrison, is a mere seven miles from 26 Pines. At $3 a gallon in the guzzling Family Assault Vehicle, there's something to be said for going the short route. Given the presence of the all-singing, all-dancing, incredible concelebrating nun, however, I usually bite the bullet and go to St. Stephen in Lake City (a 70 mile roundtripper).

But this time I couldn't pass up the opportunity to see the impact of Bishop Carlson's thunder from on high, so we trooped into St. Ath's instead.

What struck me upon entering the parish was that there was a considerable buzz about Bishop Carlson's directives. I overheard a discussion where a worshipper was helpfully (and accurately) pointed to where a copy of the changes could be obtained. We found five contiguous seats (it was a packed house--the holiday birds were in full flight) and sat down. Sister acknowledged that she could no longer give the homily.

Wait for it....

Catholicism: We're The Casuistry People!

But she could, in "full compliance" with the GIRM and Bishop Carlson's instructions, give "a reflection" on the day's scripture readings before Mass started. She noted for the benefit of the overflow captive audience that Mass had not yet started because the sacramental technician had yet to process in. As if that somehow sanctioned the performance. Almost needless to say, there was no effort whatsoever to explain the reasoning behind the changes. Better to leave an impression of being put upon, I suppose.

I leaned over to Heather, whose expression would have been no different had she just spritzed herself with an atomizer of skunk oil, and said "Nobody does legalism quite like a Catholic, eh?"

Yes, it has come to this: The bold, innovative Spirit of Vatican II hiding behind the letter of the law. A crabbed, hypertechnical interpretation at that. After all, Sister hadn't changed the Mass time sign to "4:20pm Saturday" and "10:20am Sunday" to account for the "optional" nature of her "compliant" non-homily homily.

Not being particularly up for yet another game of "Let's Pretend" meets "Hide the Ball," I flipped through the hymnal.

Care to guess what I found, inserted into the front cover? Aw, come on. In your heart of hearts, you already know.

Why, yes, the full version of the SagBl. I took out my pen and annotated in detail, noting that the second verse had been discontinued by Bishop Carlson, and further wrote out the full url explaining the decision. D3 then said he had to pee. Which was a happy coincidence, seeing as I had to hurl.

Afterwards, and fully catching the spirit of the parish administrator's employment of loopholes, I decided that spending the family's cash on the ladies' guild bake sale in the lobby was the equivalent of dropping some green into the Sunday collection. Interestingly enough, I saw a couple exiting very quickly in the midst of the "reflection," looking not at all pleased. Alas, I returned and participated up through the ST's homily, which only pointed up what a phony-ass dodge the "reflection" was--Father's homily lasted twenty seconds and referenced the fact that Sister had already covered the scriptural ground. In his defense, we learned that he has been seriously ill, but it might have been twice as long had he been healthy.

Frankly, I don't know if the rest of the liturgy was kosher or not. The Boy had a discipline problem which I resolved by football-carrying him to the minivan. This proved to be providential because I noticed that the driver's side rear tire was almost flat and sprinted off to the nearest service station for air (I ended up getting a new tire on Monday). When I got back, Heather couldn't say whether Sister's concelebration activities continued or not (my child bride knelt during consecration, unlike everybody else).

The most grating thing about the whole performance is what a crappy witness it is to Catholicism. The best conclusion some observant visiting stranger could draw is that this particular parish is dodgy and doesn't bear faithful witness to what the Church's worship is all about. More likely, the impression will be that the Church is a needless complicator, the promulgator of meaningless abstract rules satisfied by minor shifts.

Thanks, St. Ath's! Way to hold up the side!

The Addams Family Goes Out To Eat.

Scenes from our Friday night out:

Madeleine: "Where are we going to eat, Daddy?"
Me: "It rhymes with 'dead mobster.'"
D3: "All right! We can see the lobsters in the tank--before they get eaten!"
Maddie and Rachel: "Yay!"
Me: [To Heather] "Then I guess they'd just plotz about a visit to death row."

Later on at Rhymes-with-dead-mobster, I'm sitting next to Rachel. Heather hands her a cup of shredded cheese that came with the salad. Rachel pinches some of it out of the small cup, then decides that will be an inefficient delivery method.

She grabs the cup and pours it on to the table. Still too inefficient.

She transforms into a toddler Tony Montana, ramming her face into the pile of cheese. A minute later, she completes the effect, jabbing me in the left arm with her fork wearing an evil grin as if to tell me "Say hello to my leetle frien'!"

And they already outnumber us....

Yeah, but what about Camper Van Beethoven?

Rich Leonardi has a good post about The Replacements up. And other good posts, too.

Great, great quote.

Don't care much for the man and his atrocities, but Confederate General Nathan Bedford Forrest sure could turn a phrase when his dander was up.

To his thankfully-inept commander, Gen. Braxton Bragg, in the aftermath of the bloody Confederate victory at Chickamauga:

I have stood your meanness as long as I intend to. You have played the part of a damned scoundrel, and are a coward, and if you were any part of a man I would slap your jaws and force you to resent it. You may as well not issue any more orders to me, for I will not obey them, and I will hold you personally responsible for any further indignities you endeavor to inflict upon me. You have threatened to arrest me for not obeying your orders promptly. I dare you to do it, and I say to you that if you ever again try to interfere with me or cross my path, it will be at the peril of your life.

I can think of a few holders of pointy hats upon whom I would like to uncork that stream of brilliant vitriol. You?

Overdue musical acknowledgements.

To Chris Johnson for his recommendation of Sr. Marie Keyrouz, the musical voice of the Christian East. "Stunning" is an inadequate description of her singing. Many, many thanks, Chris.

To Aumgn and Bob Pokoj for their recommendations of Palestrina and HB Recordings Direct, respectively. Both have proven to be magnificent, though I advise against listening to the Lamentations of Jeremiah in a morose mood. And yes, Hilary, I am looking into Henry Purcell's works. T'aint cheap, though.

Feel free to add more recommendations in the comment box below.

If you're going to spew, spew into this.

The gastroenteritis bug spreads--I spent two and a half hours at the urgent care clinic with the two oldest. Yep--Maddie's come down with it now, and Dale's firing from both barrels, so to speak. Rachel has so far been spared. The floor and paint work have been postponed, of course.

Prayers for the kids and my wife are appreciated. Don't forget Heather--if she gets sick, the household goes down in flames.

Meanwhile, some housekeeping, in response to the comments:

(1) Christina had a post surgery relapse (a fistula developed), but is home now and on the road to recovery.

(2) I forget that I have Philadelphians who visit. I should learn to speak more slowly and e.nun.ci.ate, but I'm an insensitive lout by nature. Here's the dread Saginaw Blessing, which I have experienced first hand. It's also discussed at Amy's, including the legalistic tergiversations employed to protect it.

(3) And this is just cool--you can now build your own 1/5 scale, fully--and I mean fully--functioning Sherman tank. It's in the same rarified category of cool as the Lego Babbage Engine, if I do say so myself.

Let's see...

(1) Work has been a bear (three attorneys doing the work done by six two months ago),
(2) In one of my cases, opposing counsel prematurely filed a pointless motion for summary judgment (which, but for the bushels of inconvenient material fact, is sure to be granted),
(3) Heather is testifying in a criminal case today (she witnessed an attempted beating),
(4) our kitchen floor is being replaced tomorrow,
(5) the kitchen is being painted Wednesday,
(6) Heather is leaving with the kids Tuesday (see (4) and (5), supra);
(7) The Boy is recovering from a bout of projectile vomiting and a double ear infection and
(8) I'm certain I'm forgetting something.

So, blogging will be a mite constricted for a few days. But I can't pass up a discussion of the crozier falling in Saginaw (at long last), and I'll do so soon. Among my many favorite parts is the dispatch of the dread "Saginaw blessing" [sic].

Share and enjoy!

Advice appreciated.

[Sorry for the lack of activity. Down with the misnamed "flu." As in that affliction where it makes more sense to take the entree to the toilet and flush it directly, avoiding the middleman. Meant to do much, accomplished little. That, and the morbid depression caused by the shocking non-appearance of the ODB on my doorstep has thrown me for a loop. Moving on.]

Heather has a post requesting book recommendations over here.

We have been giving the kids a dose of the classics lately, focusing on the Greek myths. Odysseus (his dad was Irish, don't you know?), Theseus and the Minotaur and Bellerophon are all favorites. If you can find them(very, very tough as they are inexplicably long out of print), the Troll Associates publications from the mid-80s are very high quality in presentation.

Theseus beheading the minotaur is a big hit. In fact, beheadings of any sort are popular with the kid set, I have discovered. In fact, I'm leery of reading Judith to the eldest on account of this.

In a mysterious development, Rachel can now say "Holy crap!" As I said, a puzzler. I suspect it's a toddler Tourrette's variant.

In the audiovisual department, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi (the Chuck Jones version) is also wildly popular. I recommend the CJ version because it borrows heavily from the Kipling original. Kids love Kipling, too. I'll be reciting Tommy and The Recessional soon. Plus, it's part of their Michigan heritage, what with the UP sporting two towns called Rudyard and Kipling (which the delighted author referred to as his "sons in Michigan"). They'd be proper little British imperialists by now, but for that Irish streak, which The Wife is educating them about. Nevermind her even stronger Churrman strain, which manifests itself in the children attempting to annex Dad's seat whenever he gets up for thirty seconds.

Rest assured, Anglophiles and those who love them, I'm gradually administering the antidote.

The Tigers still sit atop Major League Baseball after a 7-9 streak against the better American League teams and after I risked the kiss of death by mentioning them positively.

More later, if the system allows.

There's Something About Fidel.

To all the girls I've loved before/
Who've travelled in and out my abattoir...

Holy head shot, Batman. I. Just. Don't. Get. It.

That Castro charisma, that is.

At 80, the dictator is wrinkled, unkempt, and looking increasingly goofy in his uniforms. Not to mention sporting hair in all the usual places octogenarians grow it. In fact, the man looks like nothing so much as a Stalinist yard gnome gone to seed.

But somehow, just being in the presence of the Latino Ceaucescu makes certain people all warm and swoony, leading to an instant collision of the brain pan with the large intestine.

I stumbled across another of the all-around emitter of Latin Heat and hirsute tyrant about town's Yankee leftie conquests, and an unlikely one at that. Fast Eddie swept Indigo Girls singer and lesbian activist Amy Ray off her feet in a whirlwind quickie back in March 1999. [Link here--scroll down to 3/29/99 entry.] Talk about your classic Chasing Amy scenario...

Alas, thinking Marxist Ray reveals herself as the very definition of an idiot in her entry, useful and otherwise:

Last night I met Fidel Castro. After the show, we were bussed over to the presidential palace. The bus was crowded and some were complaining of having to stand and it taking so long. We are so spoiled.

Truer words...

We were led into the palace and our bags were left at the counter. The security was very unintimidating.

"What's that? A 'Potemkin Village'? That's one of those tacky new McMansion subs in Chevy Chase, right? Yeah, I hate those, too."

I love how the "Question Authority"/"Think Globally, Act Locally" brigades fail to stress anything resembling a brain neuron at crunch time.

Too often, when faced with the sins of their heroes, they shrug and start sounding like the Japanese girls in Live at Budokan.

Exactly like them, as we shall shortly see.

The artist [sic] were set aside to meet him first-which seemed fitting somehow for this country.

I suppose it's "fitting." Especially in light of the fact you didn't have any Daughters of the NKVD auxilliaries with you. Those girls--and Oliver Stone--get to jump the queue, even ahead of people with some discernable talent.

We approached Castro one at a time and got to spend a minute of one-on-one time with him. I was visibly shaking and my eyes teared up as I introduced myself.

Didn't I didn't I didn't I see you cryin'...

I know that this man has participated in his share of violence in the name of the revolution, but his ideals (a "man of the people") seemed to overshadow the reality of war-this I have to ponder. I feel the same way about Che-a man who was dedicated to fighting the brutalities of imperialism but who also got lost in his own machismo and violence. The Zapatistas seem to be the purest movement that I have been exposed to. I think of Ingrid Washinawatok who recently was kidnapped and killed in Colombia, South America, and one reason to meet Fidel is in her memory. But how disillusioning that a women [sic] who fought for the people and sympathized with the Marxist vision would herself be killed by leftist guerrillas. This is the mix up of war. Giacomo decided not to meet Fidel because he had been touched too closely by his wars. Fidel funded the left-wing guerrilla movement in Guatemala and the U.S. government funded the corrupt right-wing Guatemalan government army. So many people were caught up in the middle. I told Fidel that I appreciated what he stands for and that I would go home with a bigger heart, then I kissed his hand...hmmm...I don't know what got into me, and I don't even remember his response. He had a peaceful demeanor and struck me as an old spirit who had been through a lot and sometimes may have lost his way. He was very otherworldly yet human.

Blogger Error Page 407--Text Unfiskable.

However, the good news is that I have been able to reconstruct the dictator's response. To paraphrase the immortal line from Anchorman, he expressed his appreciation through the medium of song:

Mother told me, yes she told me/
I'd meet girls like you/
She also told me stay away/
You'll never know what you'll catch/
Just the other day I heard/
Of a soldier's falling off/
Some Indonesian junk/
That's going 'round/

Mommy's all right, Daddy's all right/
They just seem a little weird/
Surrender, surrender/
But don't give yourself away

Very soulful, el commandante is.

Perhaps I shouldn't pick on Ms. Ray so much. After all, she joins such diverse luminaries as Stone, Dorothy Day and Bishop Thomas Gumbleton in their unreserved adulation for Fidelismo. Still, only the Rev. Joan Brown Campbell's groupie-hood is more cringe-inducing. Campbell's public celebrations of Castro always suggest a chucking-her-panties-at-Tom-Jones-moment is imminent.

Nevermind that pile of corpses and chain of gulags, of course. Not to mention that by being apologists for Castro, they are trashing the principles they claim to champion.

For example: why does Ray has such love for a man whose treatment of homosexuals is...shall we say, less than warmly affirming? According to The Black Book of Communism(1), (p. 656) Castro's tyranny has imprisoned homosexuals for simply being homosexual, has a record of forced therapy, and has staged public denunciations of and "confessions" by gay university professors.

Mustn't think of that, though. Pay no attention to the bearded man behind the iron curtain.

Unless a good Marxist just has to suck it up. Something on the order of "you can't make a utopia without breaking some gays"--perhaps that's it?

A mystery indeed.

Footnote:

(1) I know, I know--quoting from a product of the right-wing hate press, the France-Harvard axis of lies.

Stop sending in submissions.

We already have our Winner of the Best Blog Post Title for 2006:

"Ecce Ho!"

Couldn't happen to a nicer souless marketing mercenary.

[H/t to Patty. I'll be chortling all weekend]